Inner Head

© 2001 Kate Corkery Hustins
All rights reserved.

Straight blade,
eerie sharp,
body made of steel.

The need to see
blood and death,
a strange and timeless wheel.

Screams and spasms,
hordes of hell,
feed this cannibal monster.

Perverted thoughts
to kill them all,
"I guess is just my nature."

Slice the knife
upon the flesh,
deep into the wound.

Sadomasochistic thoughts
turn dread
to destined fate...

that this here murder
would occur
on any night or date.

Popping seams,
eyeballs gutted,
the brain a splattered mess.

Intestines strewn
about the floor,
a glistening mass of death.

One to two,
ten to thirty,
now they all are dead.

Sixty eyeballs,
safely kept,
underneath my bed.

Spaghetti strings
of leaking life
streaming out her ear.

A piece of it
in my pocket,
my crest of tranquil cheer.

Sizzling springs
of falling blood
down death's endless drain.

Clean and sorting
out the parts,

"I am a plumber of the vein."

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